


Mitsumame

by WendigoDreaming



Series: Hannibal Drabbles [2]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: After Nako-Choko, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Fluff, Gay Sex, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-04
Updated: 2014-05-04
Packaged: 2018-01-21 20:21:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1562816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WendigoDreaming/pseuds/WendigoDreaming
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was naive for Hannibal to think this could happen for the rest of eternity. That time would allow them an eternity of peaceful, happy existence together. Naivety was not something he advocated for, but there was something undeniable about a universe where there was nothing but Will, his dangerous hands and that beautiful mind. </p><p>Continuation from Naka-Choko.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mitsumame

Hannibal and Will had just finished their first true meal together. Although calling it a “first meal” was not completely correct. They had had many meals before, with pressed smiles, digging stares from Will, and ingenious puns that swept across the top of his head. Despite this, Will was not the only one to invalidate the previous meals. To Hannibal’s credit he had not been honest, nor had he been completely open. 

It had been a charade—a beautiful and well choreographed charade—but not reality nonetheless.

But there had been Will scraping the ginger with the edge of a spoon and cutting it in a clumsy fashion that was more fitting of fish-gutting than of cutting a fibrous root. There was Hannibal reaching over to guide his hand in the proper cut with his chefs knife. True, genuine smiles were exchanged over quips. Everything was laid out before each other in an intimacy that Hannibal had never felt physically or emotionally before. It was all psychological and Hannibal had never felt so exposed, or naked.

Will pulled Hannibal’s hand over from his shoulder, bringing the free hand up to his lips. He sealed a kiss over the veins of his hand, delicately mapping the faint blue lines leading up to his knuckles. It was all very domestic. Warm lips wrapped around the bones of his knuckles and Hannibal had to turn his hand to wrap around the face in need of a shave and thankfully no longer smelling of bad cologne.

“What these hands have done…” Will whispered quietly. When Hannibal guided his face backwards the fire lit up the dark pools of his eyes and he could see Will’s contemplation. He was considering all the things he’d done with those hands: the lives he’d taken, the throats he’d constricted, the flesh they had cut both for surgery and cuisine, and even the gentle flourishes within his cooking. 

“They are dangerous hands.” At his words, instead of his pupils constricting like a cat’s in fear, they only opened wider, inviting the thought deeper into his mind. There was serene peace deep in Will’s features that settled his stomach in a way no perfectly braised thigh nor perfectly played Chopin could.

They sipped the wine hanging limply from their hands as the fire crackled behind.

“You know,” Will broke the peaceful silence that had settled and wrapped the room in warmth, “my hands are dangerous as well.”

He reached up, turning in Hannibal’s lap to lightly run his nails along the side of his cheek then down to the expanse of neck. The nails were blunt and yet Hannibal could not deny the hands spoke of a slowly simmering power that, not unlike a stock that with time turned from unpalatable to rich and flavourful, had begun to surface spectacularily. Will was trying to prove he was his equal and it was incredibly endearing. Or at least as endearing as Hannibal could find a human. “Yes, of course. Had they been weak I would not permit them to touch me as you are.”

“Have you ever allowed someone to touch you this freely?”

Will was becoming brave, the fine chianti in his hand filling his breath with sweet notes of Tuscany and the tips of his fingers dipping into the collar of his shirt trying to touch the pulse points in the hollow of Hannibal’s throat. No, he’d never allowed this before. When people touched him it was guided under Hannibal’s influence whether or not they acknowledged it. If Will had closed his fist over his neck or plucked his expensive shirt out from his pants to explore the expanse of back it would have all been equally welcomed. “Never.”

Will inhaled sharply, his eyes flickering.

“You have free rein Will, you have earned it tonight.” Hannibal moved down to kiss the corner of the younger man’s warm lips. What would he smell like with Hannibal’s scent covering him? His cologne dabbed at his wrists and behind his ears, and the sticky markings of Hannibal’s excitement down between his thighs? “Would you like that?”

The breath leaving the mouth hovering inches from his own picked up. “Yes.” Wine was clumsily slid onto an antique side table and Hannibal barely had time to move his own before Will was surging up in his lap. His body was so smooth and purposeful as he wrapped Hannibal’s face within those hands with bruised knuckles and the faint scent of ginger. Hannibal’s arousal had never been this honest and a small delighted gasp slipped from him as Will’s teeth found his bottom lip and then supplanted it with a long, languid suck.

“I want this.” He murmured, all while his lips kept finding Hannibal’s, targeting the soft flesh as if nothing else existed in the room, as if his lips were built for only the purpose of dancing against Hannibal’s own. “But never lie to me again. Never.” Will punctuated each word with a kiss slowly moving down Hannibal’s jaw.

How could he ever lie to this beautiful creature writhing slowly in his lap? How could he conceive going back to the time when everything was not as raw and charged as it was in that moment? Each nerve in their bodies was a live wire, tangling and shocking with every touch.

“Never.” Hannibal echoed. 

Happy, Will went to work loosening the doctor’s tie and slipping the silk down onto the couch nearby. Then they plucked each of the buttons until his fingers could coil around the curls he found. 

It was naive for Hannibal to think this could happen for the rest of eternity. That time would allow them an eternity of peaceful, happy existence together. Naivety was not something he advocated for, but there was something undeniable about a universe where there was nothing but Will, his dangerous hands and that beautiful mind. 

All he had ever wanted was this. Someone to understand him and challenge him. To have dinner with an equal who could appreciate the nuances in his cooking and at night could curl around him with a full understanding of the charming demons that lived under his skin. For all his extravagance he truly was a simple man with a simple desire for companionship.

“Hannibal, gods.” Will voice spiked when Hannibal’s grip found his hips and tugged at the shirt, wanting to shed it until he could lay his hand over the fluttering little organ in Will’s chest. 

“Such a good boy, hands up.” Hannibal breathed. The black of Will’s irises were bleeding out into the blue as his teeth snagged up his own bottom lip and sucked it red. Slowly Will’s arms raised, a nebulous gaze greeting him that seemed so lost within their actions that he couldn’t quite seem to master the art of sitting still. A chuckle passed between them as the shirt caught in Will’s arms, and small kisses and praises were littered along his collarbones when it finally fell to the floor.

There was an eagerness to his movements when he unbuckled Hannibal’s belt and shifted on the couch to allow them both to slowly shed the last of their second skins. Will wanted this. Hannibal wanted this. It had been so long coming.

Their skin slid across each other as Will slipped back into the curves of Hannibal’s lap. Will’s cock was already hard and Hannibal could feel himself matching the man as the soft flesh of his thighs pressed against it. Will sat there, backlit by the fire, his hands taking what they wanted. They tugged his hair and those previous tender kisses were growing heated and deeper. Will was trying to suck the very existence from Hannibal from the back of his throat. 

Normally he would have hid his amusement but instead the doctor laughed openly as Will’s hips canted back and forth against his erection without even noticing. Will, instead of ashamed, surprised Hannibal by digging his nails right into his scalp. “Don’t laugh, many people consider that rather rude during love making.”

“My apologies William I-.” 

Will’s smile grew positively devilish when he saw the undisguised shock cross Hannibal’s face. “That’s what this is, isn’t it?”

“Yes, I suppose it is.” Hannibal grinned before shifting his hips and pressing the length between Will’s cheeks. He could watch Will come undone for hours. The way his posture utterly sagged and his eyes seemed to bore right through Hannibal in a lost gaze, searching for reality and instead only finding pleasure.

There on Hannibal’s couch by the fire, with wine on their lips and a shared meal in their stomachs, Hannibal felt an eternity pass between them.

**Author's Note:**

> The title, in theme with season 2, is a Japanese dessert of fruits with a sweet black syrup poured over it… I thought it was fitting! Sickly sweet but still just a little dark.
> 
> I’ve never written any Hannibal fluff before… and well… fluff in general for many, many months (years?). Bittersweet and fucked up is my forte so it was nice to take a break from that actually. It is probably painfully obvious that this was not beta’d. Either way, enjoy and let me know what you think!


End file.
